


Chicken Soup

by Frankensteins_Monster



Series: Loving Avengers [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Chicken Soup, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship, Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Sweet, Winter Falcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:14:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27913615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frankensteins_Monster/pseuds/Frankensteins_Monster
Summary: Basically, Bucky really misses chicken soup. He says that the chicken soup people make in this day and age just isn’t the same. Sam remembers a recipe that his grandmother used to make, tracks it down and then decides to make some chicken soup. Because of course, he just happened to feel like making chicken soup… because it’s not like he did it for Bucky or anything, right? <3
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
Series: Loving Avengers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2059050
Comments: 3
Kudos: 144





	Chicken Soup

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually the sister fic of a SteveTony fic of mine. The two stories are heavily intertwined and they even share a few scenes, so I highly recommend checking that one out as well.
> 
> Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28712847

“You know what the thing is that I weirdly miss the most?” Bucky said to Steve. Sam had been listening to them talk about ‘old times’ for what felt like hours. He had mixed feelings about that. Because the professional in him was annoyed that they were having unprofessional conversations during a stakeout. And on an unprofessional level he felt… left out. But he also couldn’t help but feel incredibly sorry for the two of them. These were men who didn’t truly belong, lost in a new world of technology and culture that he secretly knew alienated them both far more than they let on. And ultimately he was glad that they were at least able to support each other, through it all.

“Hmm.” Steve replied, taking a swig from a bottle of water.

“Chicken soup.” Bucky said.

“Chicken soup?” Steve repeated, with some amusement. “Really? I must admit I hate the stuff. Reminds me too much of just laying around sick in bed, I think.”

Bucky frowned. Then he sighed. “My ma used to make it for me. And chicken soup these days is just so… strange.”

“I honestly haven’t tried it.” Steve said.

“Well don’t.” Bucky said, sadly. “It’s just awful. I don’t understand… out of all that has changed for the modern day… how is it that they could get **_chicken soup_** so wrong?”

“Cheap chemical flavouring and general squeamishness.” Sam spoke up for the first time in about an hour, wearing a sheepish grin. Bucky and Steve turned to look at him with mild surprise. “My grandmother used the freaking necks, you know? But these days people aren’t into that.”

Steve grimaced. For a man who had actually snapped necks, he certainly was the squeamish type.

But Bucky grinned. “So that’s it.” He said. “I never did pay any attention to how my ma actually made it… been regretting that lately.”

Sam nodded. “I get that.” He said, solemnly.

Bucky rubbed the back of his own neck awkwardly. “Yeah.” He said, with a sad smile.

Sam visited his storage unit later in the week. It was one he kept much of his grandmother’s stuff in, since she’d passed. At the time, it had hurt him too much to really go through it. To decide where he would keep things in his own home, and what he would have to throw away or sell. Even looking at it used to hurt, like a knife to the heart, but the thought of getting rid of it was even worse. So it just sat here. And he had just never really gone to visit it again. Untouched, but always there in the back of his mind. Always right there for him to grasp onto, if he needed it.

It took him a long time of searching before he finally dug up her recipe cards. Before that he ran his hands over the photo albums, and hesitated before opening them. He leafed through the glossy pages of small, oddly shaped photographs. There were plenty of him as a small boy, when he was maybe three or four. There was one of him sitting on his grandmother’s knee, atop a big squishy floral fabric armchair. He could still remember how that armchair smelled, somehow. That armchair was somewhere in here too, buried somewhere under boxes and other stuff. But he knew that if he dug it out now, it simply wouldn’t smell the same.

When he left he took the albums with him, tucked neatly under one arm. He could always sort the rest out later, but these… he needed these to stay with him, in his home.

Sam smiled as he leafed through the recipe cards and found the one for Chicken Soup. He wasn’t entirely certain where he would get the chicken necks these days… maybe some butcher’s shops still sold them… but something about seeing her handwriting alone made him feel warm.

Sam collected the ingredients as best he could. He was able to get most of what the recipe specified, and what he couldn’t he figured he could substitute. He settled the ingredients on his kitchen counter and set to work, cooking.

When Sam was done, there was a steaming pot of chicken soup on his stove that smelled almost perfect. He smiled to himself as he spooned some into a bowl, and tasted it. It wasn’t perfect… but it was amazing. It had been at least two decades since he had last eaten this, and his tastebuds were crying hallelujah.

He ate until he was full… and then…

He still had a giant pot full of chicken soup sitting on his stove.

‘Right.’ He thought to himself. He had just followed the recipe, but he didn’t really consider the serving.

What was he going to do with this? As is he wouldn’t even be able to fit it in his fridge… so…

His first thought was to call Steve. But Steve, as he remembered, had said he hated chicken soup. And he couldn’t really think if any of his other friends liked it or not...

‘Bucky.’ Sam immediately thought. Obviously not his friend, kind of an asshole really, but he did say that he loved the stuff. That it was the thing he missed the most out of everything from his former life. So Sam figured he didn’t really have any other choice but to call Bucky.

After all, what other options did he have?

“Why are you calling me?” Was how Bucky answered the phone.

“Lovely.” Sam said, sarcastically. “Maybe in that case I won’t invite you over to eat my grandmother’s delicious chicken soup, made with genuine authentic chicken, and including all the tasty bits.”

He heard Bucky swallow over the phone. “Text me your address.” He said, and then hung up.

Sam blinked. Jeez, Bucky really was an asshole. But he texted him the address anyways.

Around twenty minutes later… that’s odd, since Sam’s place was definitely more than a twenty minute drive away from where Bucky was staying… Bucky arrived.

“Smells good.” Bucky said, with a hopeful grin, and just for that Sam decided to forgive him for being such an asshole in general.

“Yeah, it does.” Sam said. “Turned out well, I think.”

“Let me try.” Bucky insisted, and Sam poured him a bowl.

When Bucky took his first sip, he made a strange expression that made Sam wonder if he hated it.

“It’s really good.” Bucky said, quietly. “Gosh… fuck… it’s really good.”

Sam was taken aback when he found that something in Bucky’s voice, and something in his expression made him feel quite strange.

“Just call me an asshole like you normally do.” He said with a laugh, turning his head away to hide the warmth growing in his cheeks. “It sounds sort of… wrong to hear you actually compliment me for once.”

Bucky turned to him in surprise. “I don’t think I’ve actually ever called you an asshole.” He said. “You’ve called me an asshole, plenty of times. But I’ve never called you one before.”

Sam snorted. “Really?” He said disbelievingly.

“I haven’t.” Bucky insisted. “Because I don’t think you’re an asshole, for one. And because I don’t call good people assholes… do you think Steve would have ever hung out with me if I did? He doesn’t like bullies, you know.”

“Sorry.” Sam said. He felt disarmed by what Bucky said, and he apologised before he could stop himself.

Bucky shrugged. “It’s all good. Because you’re right, I mean, I am an asshole.” He said casually.

“No. You’re not an asshole.” Sam said.

“Yeah, I am.” Bucky said.

“No you’re not. You’re great.” Sam said, before realising what he’d said. He’d actually had no idea he even felt that way until he said it. But at that moment he realised that he meant it. “Uhh… I mean… you’re a great friend.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “We’re friends?”

Sam shook his head. It just sounded wrong. “Yeah… no.”

Bucky laughed. He actually laughed. “No... I don’t think so either.”

And then it just turned into… something. Every two weeks Sam made a big pot of chicken soup, and Bucky came over to eat it with him. Sam was certain that Bucky broke traffic laws whenever he texted. And that made him feel… good. Yes, it made him feel good. And so he started making chicken soup more often, and made it once a week instead.

Bucky started sleeping on his couch on those nights, once a week. He sort of just invited himself to stay over, and Sam let him. They’d make an evening of it, watching old action movies and chatting from opposite sides of the couch. And then Sam would go off to his bed, and Bucky would just stay there.

“Isn’t it uncomfortable?” Sam once asked, in regards to sleeping on the couch, but Bucky just shrugged. “I’ve slept worse.”

Sam was sure that he had.

One night Sam woke up to the sound of Bucky crying out. He made his way to the couch, only to see that Bucky was still asleep, tossing and turning wildly. Making these whimpering noises that were completely incomprehensible.

Sam sat down and leaned against the couch, putting a firm hand on Bucky’s shoulder to settle him.

“It’s ok.” He said aloud. “It’ll all be ok.”

When Sam woke up that morning, they were both on the floor, and Bucky was huddled into his chest.

“Sorry.” Bucky mumbled, as he began to stir, removing his face from where it was buried in Sam’s chest and looking up at him blearily, a lock of hair falling away from his face as he did so.

“It’s ok.” Sam said, and Bucky’s face tightened.

“Oh.” He said, closing his eyes and burying his face back in Sam’s chest.

Sam wrapped his arms gently around Bucky and the two lay together for a little longer.

From that moment on things changed a little. They no longer sat on opposite sides of the couch when watching movies, instead they were always touching, leaning into each other. And when Bucky stayed over they both slept on the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms. They never slept in the bed together, because it felt like they might be crossing some sort of line, although Sam couldn’t help but wonder if they’d crossed it already. He thought he knew what that line was too, that sleeping in the bed together would make it too… gay.

Well Bucky had grown up in the 1920s. And Sam himself wasn’t sure exactly how he felt about it, all of this. He hadn’t really felt anything like this for another man before. It was… complicated.

For now… he was sort of ok with this. Exactly as it was.

Or at least that was the case until…

“You know he was quite the ladies man.” Steve said, patting Bucky affectionately on the shoulder. “Like you wouldn’t believe how he once got around. This man here, was a legend. I’m not joking, he got them lining up down the block! Everywhere he went. Never missed a shot, this one.”

Sam didn’t react like Steve was hoping for him to. Steve had assumed that he might find it amusing, but Sam just looked really uncomfortable, and Steve wasn’t sure why. He didn’t look at Bucky’s face, but if he had he might have noticed that he was looking just as uncomfortable.

“Maybe you should think about getting back out there, Buck. You know, it really helps-“

“Please just stop, Steve.” Bucky whispered. It was only then that Steve saw his face. Steve let go of Bucky in surprise. He certainly hadn’t expected him to make that kind of expression. To be honest, it had always been Bucky making **_him_** go on dates and Steve wearing the uncomfortable expression. He guessed that of all things he hadn’t expected that Bucky would change.

“Wait, Bucky! I didn’t mean to upset you.” Steve said. “Are you ok? Why are you...”

“I don’t know.” Bucky said. Then he forced an awkward smile. “I guess I’m just not ready yet. You go have fun, Steve. I’ll be alright.” He said gently.

“Are you sure?” Steve asked. He was clearly worried.

“He’ll be fine.” Sam said. “I’ll take care of him. We can do movie night.”

Steve looked relieved by that. “Alright. I trust you, Sam. Although, I didn’t realise you guys were so close.”

Sam shrugged. “He’s a great guy.” He said.

Steve smiled warmly. “Of course he is. I’m glad.”

“You too.” Bucky said to Sam. “I mean, you’re a great guy too.”

As soon as Bucky and Sam got through the door of Sam’s apartment they were on top of one another, kissing as if they were used to it. Desperately, hungrily.

Before they knew it they were on the bed, and Bucky nipped and open mouthed kissed his way down Sam’s neck. Sam ran his hands across Bucky’s hips and ass, wanting to feel him, wanting to be inside him.

Bucky whined and ground against him like an animal in heat. And to Sam it looked… cute, and even beautiful to see Bucky be so wanton and desperate.

Still in their clothes, they ground against each other. They kept the pace slow, gentle arousal, until neither of the two could wait a moment longer. Then Bucky pulled his dick out, stroking up and down its length, and then he did the same to Sam’s, before pressing them against each other and stroking them both with one firm hand. Bucky’s metal arm clenched tightly around Sam’s shoulder as he appeared to put all of his focus onto his other one. The metal fingers gripped too tightly into Sam’s skin and he hissed at their painful pressure, but Bucky kept on stroking them both with his real, hot, human hand.

“So… fucking good.” Sam moaned, unable to stop himself from voicing it.

“Mmmm.” Bucky agreed. “So fucking good.”

Soon Bucky’s breathing began to quicken. He came across Sam’s stomach. Sam would have been bothered by it if he wasn’t so… turned on. He lasted a good while longer then Bucky, he blamed the pain in his shoulder for that, but Bucky kept pumping his hand over Sam’s cock and pressing sweet French kisses to his lips and eventually he found himself spilling over the edge of orgasm.

Sam buried his head in Bucky’s shoulder. “Amazing.” He whispered.

“You think so?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, definitely.” Sam said. “Although I could maybe do without the iron grip on my shoulder, that’s going to bruise.”

“Iron grip?” Bucky asked before he realised. “Oh, crap! Sorry! I wasn’t thinking and-“

“Don’t worry about it.” Sam said. “And I wasn’t… totally… against it. I just.”

“No. I should be more careful.” Bucky insisted. “This thing here can break bones.” He said, flexing his metal fingers.

“I know.” Sam whispered. “I’ve seen it.”

“Yeah, you have.” Bucky whispered, leaning in to press another kiss to Sam’s lips. “You been watching me, Falcon?”

“Always.” Sam said.

Bucky chuckled. “You really shouldn’t be doing that while on missions. You’ll get hurt.”

“But then how could I ever get enough of you, if I didn’t get to watch you kicking ass?” Sam joked.

Bucky ran a hand across Sam’s cheek. “Like this.” He said, and kissed Sam deeply.”

“Yeah?” Sam asked, before kissing Bucky back.

“Yeah.” Bucky replied.

“Then I am going to get so damn good at missions.” Sam said. “Because I’ve only been paying like, seventy-five percent attention to them this whole time. When you're there with me.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at that. “You had actually better be joking about that.” He threatened. “Because I’m starting to think you might be serious and… You could die out there. My ass is not worth it.”

“Your ass is definitely worth it.” Sam said. “But I may have exaggerated a little. I do pay, like, ninety-five percent attention under ordinary circumstances.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “One-hundred percent attention! You should always give the mission one-hundred percent of your attention! My God! Seriously!”

“Yeah… normal human beings can’t do that.” Sam said, flippantly.

“They can and they will.” Bucky said. “Or they will never get to have sex again.”

“Yeah. Ok.” Sam gave in immediately. “Fine. A hundred percent. I’ll do it.”

Bucky snuggled up to Sam. “I’m checking.”

Sam sighed and put his arms around Bucky. “I know.”

Sam turned his head sharply as he heard the sound of keys in the apartment door. Oh Crap.

Steve walked right in to Sam’s apartment, Sam had sort of forgotten that he’d given him the spare key. And that he might be worried about them. “I thought I’d come by to check on-“ Then Steve just sort of froze when he saw them, Bucky sleeping in the crook of Sam’s arm. Both naked (though thankfully under the covers). In bed… together.

Sam cleared his throat. “Movie night went well.” He explained awkwardly, as Steve’s jaw dropped. And then Steve’s eyes widened. “Oh! I’m sorry!” He gasped. “I had no idea.”

“It’s… uhh… cool.” Sam said. After all, he sort of had Steve to thank for this whole situation.

Bucky began to stir. “Steve? What…” He mumbled. And then shot up into a sitting position. “What are you doing here?” He exclaimed, hastening to pull up the covers until you could barely even see his face.

“I had a… spare key. Was a little worried after our last conversation. Was checking on you. Probably gonna leave now.” Steve mumbled in one long string, pink-cheeked and looking away. “Sorry.” He added again before stepping away. “Oh, and… ummm… congrats.” He called out moments before he left the apartment and they heard the door close behind him.

Bucky collapsed back underneath the sheets, the tension slowly relaxing from his body. “He said… congrats.” He whispered.

“Yeah.” Sam said.

“So that means… he’s ok with this?”

“Seems so.”

“I can’t believe it.” Bucky said.

Sam smiled and shrugged. “Actually, I can. There’s no way Steve’s the kind of guy to-“

“When I was growing up, everyone was the kind of guy to.” Bucky softly corrected him.

“Yeah, well… the 20s.” Sam mumbled, not entirely sure what he was saying.

Bucky bit his lip and let out a short, sharp laugh through his nose. “I guess there is an upside to this strange new world after all.” He said, and leant in to kiss Sam.

“I love you.” Sam said, when Bucky pulled away.

“I love you too.” Bucky responded, almost immediately.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like what I do here you can follow me on twitter @Writer_Monster or on my tumblr where I’m writer-monster


End file.
